God's Lotus Garden of Trust
by Daimeryan Rei
Summary: Priest Mahaado tells about his life and how it’s interwoven with the Pharaoh’s, crossing the line between master and servant, overstepping the boundaries of being just friends, responding to the urge to be with each other… beyond life and death.
1. Chapter 1

Title: God's Lotus Garden of Trust

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh!

Pairing: Priest Mahaado x Pharaoh Atemu

Genre: Romance, drama, a little bit of angst

Rating: M for a shounen ai and a lemon scene

Word count: 19.500

Summary: Priest Mahaado tells about his life and how it's interwoven with the Pharaoh's, crossing the line between master and servant, overstepping the boundaries of being just friends, responding to the urge to be with each other… beyond life, beyond death, and beyond eternity.

Author's note/ disclaimer: Written for the Vault's Summer Lovin' contest. Feedback is a very nice thing! Beta-ed by Wanda. Any mistake left is mine. This fic doesn't pretend to reflect life in Ancient Egypt in a historically correct way and is written for entertainment purposes only. _Shenti _refers to the usual type of clothing worn at that time (a certain short skirt, but it could also be lengthened), _heka _is used to refer to what we call magic. No money is made off of this. Yu-Gi-Oh! and all its characters belong to Takahasi Kazuki.

Key: -------------- scene change

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_What does a young child know?_

Next to nothing. It'll take years of growth, years for wisdom to mature, and years to see things in the right perspective. To understand what has happened, what is happening, what will happen- actions, reactions, consequences… it is too much to ask of a child of seven, to ask it to be able to understand what _is _happening, to see events in their appropriate light. As that same young child, I didn't understand most things at the time either. My priorities in life were simply to survive, even though I was barely aware of it. I trusted my parents to provide for clean clothing and a place to sleep, as little as it might have been, and I trusted myself to get through the day of working at our lands. Still, not knowing isn't equal to not experiencing or being blind to whatever situation is taking place. Whilst not knowing, there were impressions and events that left their mark on me. I never closed my eyes for anything around me, as life continued to teach me its lessons.

When I heard my mother cry for the first time, I was afraid that she was injured, that she was in physical pain. I ran to the only one I knew who had medical knowledge, one of our many neighbours, and I ran as fast as my bare feet could carry me. We lived too far away from the city to simply stop by a healer, or a priest, and I didn't know what to do. I cried all the way, for I loved my mother dearly, and I was afraid of losing her. She was the centre of our family, the one in charge of the household, the one who loved and cared. I continued to cry when my father gave me a sound beating for my rash presumptions and wasting the time of our esteemed neighbour, interrupting him from his work on the land for 'silly women's tears'. It was a painful lesson to learn, particularly because my father's hands were calloused and strong from all the menial labour he did. From that moment on, I would never assume or presume, but observe and watch, and draw my conclusions after verification of every factor involved.

The second time I heard my mother cry, I tentatively looked around the doorpost, and saw her sitting on the floor, with a bundle of funny smelling clothing in her hands. To this day, I blame myself for not asking her what was really troubling her mind. I just wandered over to her and put my smudged hands on her knees while I looked up at her. She gave me a smile and embraced me.

"Mahaado," she said, calling my name. "Mahaado…"

"Mother," I answered her, while my mind was racing. She wasn't injured, there was still some food left from yesterday, none of my siblings had scraped his or her knee or broke something… I wasn't sure why my mother was crying, and I didn't feel like it was my place to pry.

"Mahaado," she repeated again, burying her hands in my shoulder length hair, pressing me against her as if she never wanted to let me go. I wanted to protest- I was already seven for crying out loud, and she wanted to hold me like a baby! Still, it felt comfortable and nice, so I didn't try to squirm away- after all, she was my mother. Her embrace was gentle yet firm, her hands roaming my shoulders, holding me like I was a newborn. I knew she wanted to tell me something, as she opened and closed her mouth without any words coming out, and I didn't have the heart at that time to ask her. I was the one observing, the one watching, and the one holding faith that she would tell me, eventually.

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_What do you know when you think you're an adult?_

At age nine, I knew how to read the sun dial, I knew how to work at the lands to help my neighbours and father, and I knew how to pray for the Pharaoh's well being and his wisdom for our nation. I knew how to show gratitude to the Gods, I knew how to behave in public and to be home at dinner time, for the very simple reason there wouldn't be anything left for me if I wasn't in time. Only if there was absolutely nothing for me to do, I was able to spend some time with children my age, my friends. They had to work too- helping their parents, working on the lands, running errands. No work meant no food, even though there was almost always something to eat to be found- but it was necessary, one would always help his or her family with the daily grind of life. We had the responsibility to grow crops to the best of our knowledge and power, to earn money with our hard work and provide for our families. It was hard, and unsatisfactory- nothing changed in my life but get up early, work, eat, work some more, and go to bed late. I wasn't really interested in ploughing, in sowing, in cultivating- I wanted to know how things worked and learn more than the daily routine I went through ever since I was able to walk.

I kept those thoughts mostly before me, until I got send to the city for running errands. Some chores at the lands were too much to ask of children when it came to physical strength, and since we little ones were good at running fast, we were paying visits to the city as soon as we could be trusted for completing a chore effectively and without problems. I often passed a tall building when in the city, and I knew this was a 'school' where I heard others talk about. I immediately envied those attending it, those clothed in _shentis _which covered their upper bodies and went below the knee, who wore sandals and held scrolls on their arms, discussing their knowledge amongst each other. They laughed and talked, in a language almost different than mine, in a tone of voice that just oozed their better standing.

When I came home one afternoon after running an errand, I asked my parents why I had never been send to a school or a scribe. My father merely shrugged, saying that he didn't have the money to send me to school. He was a simple farmer, and managed to get the barest of crops every year from his lands, no matter how much effort he put into ploughing, sowing and harvesting. It was frustrating and difficult, and more than probably the reason he often let his hands do the talking- not that he beat us every day, not at all. Especially during harvest time he didn't limit himself to his children, often his friends found themselves at the receiving end of a beating, a scolding, a fight. He didn't like it that he had to work so hard while others got better results with less effort- and it didn't help that most of our neighbours didn't have any qualms in rubbing it in. He was easy to anger, my father, but he was an honest man- he prayed to the Gods, he had faith in the Pharaoh, he did his work without a single complaint. He didn't have that many friends, but he knew someone who had had lessons from a scribe years ago and if the man agreed, maybe he could teach me at least basic reading and writing.

I was excited about this, until I realized that the man demanded from me to run all his errands as well- it was double the work load, but it was worth it. He taught me reading and writing, and I took in all his knowledge as fast as I could- a whole other world opened up to me! I was finally able to read scrolls, to read the word 'school' on the school building, to read the hieroglyphs on the walls of the temples. Where I would stare at the paintings and carvings of Pharaohs and their glorious deeds before, now I could read all about them, memorizing the dates, the events, their names. My teacher was very much amused with my hunger for knowledge, but encouraged me, unlike my own father.

"One day Mahaado, you'll be able to get into the Palace's library and read the books there," he used to say. I would gape at him like a fish- me, a barefoot farmer boy, would be able to go into that magnificent, glorious place that was the Royal Palace, and visit its library there?

"Yes, at certain days it's open to public," he told me, and I was in awe at his description of the large rooms, the walls filled with scrolls- describing it to me as if we were already walking around there, at our own leisure. I smiled to myself; yes, one day I'd set foot inside that magnificent library and read all the scrolls in there. I've been to the Palace before, even though I could hardly remember it- my mother told me she'd taken me and my siblings to the large square in front of the building when the Prince was shown to the public, the newborn heir to the throne. I must've been four or five at that time, but all I can recall is that I was looking at the gigantic crowd, amassed together, suddenly falling to their knees and bowing to something I couldn't see.

While enjoying the man's lessons, I learned about ka and ba, the spirit and the soul, the reflection of the true nature of a person. I learned about mythologies, the Gods, the world- strange countries in the north, mystical lands rumoured to be overseas. I learned about various alphabets, how to write down figures, how to interpret text. It was an exhausting, hard time and I often felt tired- I couldn't keep my eyes open at night when I returned home. My mother would look at me with that look in her eyes that she always had when she thought I was asking too much of myself, and tried to gently nudge me into taking things a little more easy. My father would shrug, as that was his standard reply- after all, I brought this on myself by asking if I could go see a scribe, now didn't I? I refused to complain, as this _was _what I wanted- I wanted to learn, I wanted an answer to my questions: not why the sun went down in the west, but exactly _why _he set there, and why not in any other direction.

The tiredness finally took its toll on me and I fell asleep during ploughing, which resulted in another beating and I was informed that if I didn't find the mule that had vanished with the plough, I wouldn't have to bother coming home at all. It wasn't that difficult to track down the animal, as I followed her trail, discovering she'd thrown off the plough- but when I took a closer look at the ropes holding it in place, they were raffled and cut. That's when I noticed the mass of footprints- someone had taken the plough of our mule, and I needed to hurry to find her. She was our property and indispensable to our work and daily life, and if something happened to her… I heaved a sigh of relief when I noticed the animal standing close to a crevice, two men standing next to her, trying to get her to the other side.

"Hey! Heey!" I waved frantically, increasing my pace to catch up with them. "That's our mule!"

The two men looked up, hands fisted in the thick fur, growling as they saw me approach.

"We found her," the left one said, lisping as he was missing some teeth.

"Finders keepers," the other one agreed, grinning as he cocked his head. Undoubtedly, a kid my age wasn't very impressive to two full-grown men. I was weighing my options- I didn't recognize those two, and running back for help would give them enough time to vanish with our source of income- without the mule, we had to plough the land by hand…

"Please, this is our mule," I told the men, keeping my eyes on the animal. "We need her. It's not fair to steal one another's animal…"

"Steal?" The left one laughed out loud, as if I had told something very witty. "We found her, kid. The Gods must've placed her on our path so we could take her."

This was infuriating, and I took a small step closer, my mind racing on how to get the mule back without everyone getting into a fight- not that I was looking for any kind of fight. "It was my irresponsibility that made her walk away, and there was a plough attached to her. I found it a few meters away, ropes cut. That means she couldn't have taken it off herself…"

The grins disappeared from their faces, making way for an annoyed grimace. "Are you accusing us of stealing, kid?"

"I'm not accusing anyone of anything, but she's our mule and.."

"That's pretty much of an accusation I heard there," the right one interrupted me, his eyes narrowing. "I don't like being accused of anything, kid. The mule's ours- you should've paid better attention."

"Please," was all I could say before he slapped me, hand flat on my cheek, the force of the impact hard enough to split my lip. I fell to the ground, rocks and sand aggravating my fall, cutting and scraping my skin. I didn't cry out, this hit was nothing- my mind was focused on saving our mule, as the two started pulling and pushing her to get her to cross the crevice. Our animal wasn't safe in the hands of these rogues and would end up as their dinner.. and this was all my fault! I wasn't angry- I was _desperate._ The pain wasn't much, I briefly tasted blood in my mouth and I started to get up on my feet again.

"Please, don't," I mustered enough strength to speak, trying to solve the situation… and I saw the right man turn towards me, annoyance clear on his face.

"Stupid kid," he mumbled, letting go of the mule and cracking his knuckles. Panic started to well up in me, not knowing what to do- turn around and run away after all, letting them escape with our mule? He was approaching fast, his scruffy clothing rustling behind him, raising his fist to attack me and I took in a deep gulp of breath, bracing myself for whatever was about to come- but it never came.

And intense light, too bright on the eyes and cold when it touched the skin, cleared the sky. I lifted up my hands to protect my eyes, but my fear and panic had gone, dissolved completely as the light slowly started to dim. Instinctively, I knew _I_ had generated this light somehow, and I wasn't afraid of it. Even more, it felt _familiar._ The man recoiled, lowering his fist, his mouth wide open, gaping. At his reaction, I dared to look up to see for myself- seeing what... had come from me. It was a humanoid being, floating in the air as if the wind itself was carrying him, clad in purple clothing, wielding some kind of staff that was pointed towards the two rogues. I was agape myself- this was _heka_. Magic. This was my ka! The spirit that dwelled within me, fuelled by my own nature- it had felt my fierce protectiveness, my desire to retrieve our mule and ensure our family's well being, and it had come out, responding to my dire need.

I couldn't talk, as I was staring open-mouthed at the being, its face obscure safe for two greenish, glowing eyes, narrowed in indignation at the sight of the other men. I never gave a command, I never spoke- but it simply acted, as if it could hear my thoughts, my wish for this to be over, for this situation to end, for me to return safely with our mule to home. Home. The point of the staff started to glow dangerously, nailing the men to the ground in fear, starting to wail in misery, crying out in pain and panic as the wave emitted from the staff hit them, and once again light took possession of the sky, swallowing them whole as well as me and the mule and everything in my eyesight and I fell to the ground again, my mind confused and wondering.

Something tickling me woke me up; it was the rough tongue of our mule, licking my cheek and nudging her head to my face, scraping a little impatiently with her hoof over the rocky ground. I remained speechless as I got up, holding onto the animal to find my balance. As I looked around, there was no sight of the men to be seen, and this little voice in the back of my head told me that I would never see them again… maybe no one would ever see them again. It filled my heart with fear and awe… fear for what I've done, for what I summoned, for what was dwelling inside me, and awe for that same being that had appeared, guarding me, immediately choosing to protect me. I had all the way home to ponder it, and with my hand on the mule's neck I started to walk, the thick calloused layers of my feet barely registering the hard soil.

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Now, as I think back, I wonder if my mother knew. If she knew that I... harboured that kind of heka inside of me. Only a few are able to detect any other's heka, maybe only noticing it presence, not its strength or nature. Maybe she cried because she knew all along and she was afraid of her own son being able to produce such a being? I knew from that moment that my ka revealed itself to me, I had to be even stronger, as its existence was depending on the strength of my heart. It had responded to my devotion to protect my family, my desire to ensure everyone's safety even if it was a simple animal- and I was going to build on that, not allowing my heart to be tainted, to turn this... fantasy being into something evil, something that would ruin things instead of doing good. I also realized that That day, I surpassed our humble community, the hardworking people on the land, my teacher who silently rolled up the scrolls as I came to see him ever since my ka showed itself. He didn't say anything because there was nothing more to say, nothing more he could teach me- so we silently said goodbye and I never went back to him, and he never called me for running another errand.

The changes were great. People I called my friend were either afraid or in awe of me, not understanding the concept of ka and ba, not wanting to even think of the possibility that they could harbour such a spirit within themselves as well. Now that my heka was revealed it made me feel stronger, more confident. I tried to summon it, to no avail, which made me believe that maybe the spirit ka only came out in times of need. I was in need of someone who could teach me, who could show me the right path to deal with this. Instead of the world opening up to me, it started closing itself off of me as I frantically searched for answers, stumbling into walls wherever I looked, frustrating me to no end. My father didn't want to hear anything about it, reminding me of my duties and obligations as eldest son of the family and all the work that needed to be done. My mother didn't want to talk about it, her eyes saddening as I tried to bring the subject up, sometimes ruffling my hair as I opened my mouth. She continued to cook, to mend my clothes, to be the centre of the family as if nothing happened- and when time passed, I started to doubt if it had happened, as my spirit ka didn't show itself anymore. I was just a kid, and maybe it was a mere child's fantasy and had I been dreaming all along.

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A few years later, the call for me to report at the Royal Palace came as a surprise nonetheless. The news of my heka, my spirit ka had travelled slower but longer than I thought, and even if I hadn't manage to summon it again -fortunately, there hadn't been any situations calling for such drastic measures, my heka had eased life a little for me and my family. It was the third time I heard my mother crying, and yet again I didn't dare to ask her. She was crying in front of the messenger, clad in a long shenti and a purple cloak, indicating he was a royal messenger, and I could read the scroll myself, the words strung together in a command to bring 'the one displaying heka of such sort that he is able to summon it from himself, not with the help of any other instrument' to the Royal Palace. I would never see her cry again, as she turned around and started packing, mumbling something incomprehensible as she gathered my meagre belonging- some clean clothes, the pair of raggedy sandals I only wore when paying a visit to a temple. I wasn't sure what it entailed, to be called to report to the Royal Palace- were they going to punish me for showing off my heka? Was I wrong for having shown such power, even though I never used it, wasn't able to use it?

From the way she was packing things, I guessed soon enough that my mother wanted to come along, and it felt like rocks were plunging into my stomach. I was still only a child, afraid of losing everything he knew- even though it was monotonous, suffocating and hard work here at our lands, I would've continued it to my death if that was asked of me, and I'd preferred it over the uncertainty of what was going to happen… if I were to be punished, if I were to be praised or scolded… my mother didn't speak to me as she put a loaf of bread into a piece of cloth, wrapping it as if we were going to make a trip to never return. I realised she didn't walk as fast as I did, and that we would be mere hours on the way. As the messenger realised that himself, he threw a faint annoyed look at my mother- by that time, I didn't know he was such a mediocre messenger that he wasn't even given a horse or a carriage to deliver the message himself. It took time for my mother to gather her things, and I was told to say goodbye to my family- I did was I was told, feeling insecure and strange, and had hoped for at least some words of encouragement or compassion of my father- but he couldn't be bothered to come along. It was the last I would ever see of him.

It was my mother who accompanied me, even though she couldn't be missed from the household; while we were following the messenger and studying his purple cloak swirling in front of us, my head seemed to burst from all the many questions I had. My mother was carrying a basket with gifts for the Pharaoh- gifts consisting of simple things we could hardly miss ourselves. I doubted that I was going to see the Pharaoh, but she insisted that no one appeared empty-handed in front of our exalted King and I felt humbled, staring at my hands. I hadn't brought a thing. I was still wondering why my own father hadn't taken a little time to see me out, or what all the commotion was all about. The messenger didn't speak, as if he didn't want to interact with us commoners, and my mother didn't know herself what was going on. We were summoned to the Royal Palace for whatever reason- that it had to do with my heka was clear to me, but what?

When we arrived at the large doors and the messenger was having his papers checked, my mother finally spoke since the moment we started walking.

"Mahaado," she said, and there was this strange hint of pride in her voice. My mother always spoke fondly of me, as I was her eldest son, but this time it was more. Pride, sadness, fondness, love and… acquiescence. Acquiescence to what? The messenger waved over at us, indicating that we could follow him. The burly guards lifted their spears up, allowing us passage and the only thing I could do was to look up, not at them, but at the splendour of the Palace. The stone used to build it was of a shiny surface, cool and smooth to the touch, rendering footsteps almost silently. It felt hollow though, and I didn't dare to speak, afraid my voice would resonate too loudly through these large halls. I had no choice but to follow the messenger who guided us, obviously knowing his way around. He halted after a short but brisk walk for which I was thankful- out of the corner of my eyes, I've noticed my mother growing more and more tired.

"Wait here," the messenger said and made a vague gesture with his hand. Following his direction, I noticed a bench out of the same, smooth stone and guided my mother over there, allowing her to sit down. I had long since been carrying the basket for her and I put it at her feet, leaving it in the shade.

She was about to say something, but I shushed her.

"Mother, rest for a bit. I'm going to get you some water, all right?"

Nodding and returning a faint smile to me, I knew she needed it- all we had had was a slice of bread and we drank the last of our water before we left. Sure in this great Palace there was someone who could help us to a cup of water? Determined, I assured her to stay where she was so I could find her again, and turned on my heels. I almost smacked to the floor because I wasn't used to wearing sandals- but my mother insisted that no one would visit the Pharaoh with bare feet. I started to look around for someone who could help me; and as I wandered through the large corridors, I entered some kind of courtyard. There was no one around- how could there be so little people in such a large Palace? I squinted my eyes at the bright sun, and a flicker caught my eyes. Over there, all the way in the north corner, there was a fountain! I rejoiced when I noticed people standing close by- finally! I hurried forward, adamant on finding a cup or jug so I could bring my mother her desired water.

A small child was sitting on the edge of the elaborately crafted fountain. Made of stone, the fountain sported images of our beloved Gods, and many, many ornaments in gold. Lotus flowers were drifting in the remarkably clear water, the same water the child was sticking his hands into, amusing himself by splashing water up, laughing in delight at the drops, uncaring if his shenti got a little wet. The simple clothing he wore were completely overshadowed by the amount of gold on his body- braces around his arms, wrists, calves and waist, a broad collar around his neck, and some sort of crafted headpiece to top it off. Not only was the amount of gold astounding, his hair was of the strangest kind I had ever seen: deep rich black with dark red tips, and golden bangs to frame his face, swinging with every movement he made. I figured he must be a very rich child, but rich child or no, if he leaned any closer, he would fall into the fountain.

"Be careful or you'll fall in," I admonished, keeping the curiosity out of my voice as well as not sounding too scolding. I had experience with my many siblings and other children. I'd be able to pull him out of the fountain if he really did fall in; besides, the water didn't seem too deep to me.

The child looked up, looking directly at me, and his crimson red eyes startled me for the briefest of moments, before he laughed- not at me, but simply in entertainment. Now I noticed the big and colourful fish in the fountain and figured out why he was splashing the water- apparently, he tried to catch the fish. It surprised me how comfortable the child felt with all the gold adorning him, and he looked quite content just sitting and playing. He stuck his hands in the water again, missing the fish by a mile, but still laughing.

"Fish," he said.

"They look nice," I had to admit. They were bright and colourful, but I couldn't understand why someone would keep fish in a fountain; they meant merely dinner to me.

"They do not bite," he said and nodded, as if he had just discovered something incredibly wise and was sharing this piece of wisdom with me. I had to laugh, be it a little softly. He was cute.

"No, fish don't bite. They don't have teeth," I said, and pointed to one of the larger fish. "They have gills with which they swim, and see that thing attached to its face? That is how they sense what's in the water, and how they find food."

"Really?" He widened his eyes, and stared into the water with new-found admiration, as if he truly saw fish for the first time.

I decided to sit on the edge of the fountain as well, so I could keep an eye on the little boy, and leaned forward again.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"My name is only reserved for those in my service," he said, sounding... almost adorably pouting as if I offended him somehow- which hadn't been my intention, of course. I just asked for his name.

"Your service?" I repeated, dumbfounded. This child had servants? The people close to the fountain, standing a little to the side... I noticed them before, but never realised how close they were. Guards, servants, keeping a watchful eye over him, standing by to immediately react should anything happen. I stared at the boy, figuring he must be of very high nobility and that I more than probably shouldn't be talking to him.. yet, I didn't want to leave him alone. If I asked politely, he could probably tell one of his servants to bring my mother some water… as I saw him leaning forward, face close to the water again, my arm slowly rose, as to grab him before he would tip over and fall in.

"Leave him be," a voice boomed behind me and I cringed, freezing in my movement. That voice held so much authority that it was hard to disobey, yet managed to sound gentle in a strange way. "He can swim, and if he falls in, he will learn not to ignore advice given to him."

"Father!" the young child said gleefully, mirth shining in his eyes and he jumped off the edge of the fountain, fish completely forgotten as he ran over to the man who had spoken, a tall man clad in luxurious robes, wearing some kind of golden object. I slid off the edge of the fountain as well, knowing that this man was very, very, very important- it was as if he was wrapped in an invisible cloak of importance and kingly composure, his movements graceful yet showing a confident demeanour. He bend through his knees to welcome the boy in his arms, patting him on the back a few times before straightening himself again, his eyes focusing on me, and I couldn't help but swallow. This man was authority in the flesh, undeniably. His hand rested on the shoulder of his son, who stood next to his leg, hand fisted in the thick, rich fabric of his robes.

"You must be Mahaado," the man spoke, suddenly showing a smile. "The one the whole Palace is looking for?"

"I…" I was left without words. People were looking for _me? _

"Mahaado! Mahaado!" That was the sound of my mother's voice, and I saw her approach, all but running, looking panicked.

"Mother? But…"

She wrapped her arms around me again, almost protectively. "You were gone for so long! I was afraid you got lost…"

"Mother..."

"Leave him be," the tall man repeated, this time with definitely an amused tone in his voice. "They'll learn from their own mistakes, and it shows how studious this young man is. I'm sure he already memorized the structure of the Palace, am I right?"

I blushed furiously for a moment, not wanting to admit that indeed, I had memorized how I walked, how the Palace was built, and I was frustrating myself finding out what kind of stone the workers had used, because I didn't recognize it.

"I'm sorry, mother," I said, "I didn't want to worry you, I was looking to find some water…"

"Let us go inside," the man said, still sounding amused and he turned around to leave, his son firmly clinging to his leg. He reached down and gently disentangled his son's fingers from his robe, sliding the small hand into his own, taking him with him as he walked towards one of the large doors.

"Mother..?" I asked, as I didn't know what to make out of this. I had embarrassed and worried my mother, and I felt horribly for it- she was looking at me with a mixture of relief and horror on her face, and I couldn't understand why. The guards and servants who had been watching suddenly started walking, following the man and the child, not one of them greeting us in passage but one of the maids.

"He sure has a lot to learn, hasn't he?" She asked my mother, but it wasn't brusquely or rude. "It's a good thing the King is so favourable of children. He wouldn't have accepted it from anyone adult."

I stared after her, wondering why she was talking like that to my mother who bowed her head in silent answer, starting to smooth out my clothing as if it already wasn't impeccable in place. It took a few moments for me to pale, as realization hit me and I finally made the connection.

At the age of eleven, I became an adult, the moment I realized I had been talking to the future Pharaoh, a son of the gods, and I had admonished him for not leaning too far in the fountain. I had met the current Pharaoh, and hadn't knelt for him or shown any signs of recognition. The Gods decided not to smite me that day- for reasons unknown to me.

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	2. Chapter 2

My life changed drastically ever since that day I was brought to the Royal Palace. I was entrusted into the care of one of the Pharaoh's Priests, and he started teaching me the moment I stepped into his room. Whatever I thought I knew, and I thought I knew pretty much already, paled in the comparison of the wisdom of this great man. He laughed at my basic skills, mocking me for being a simple farm boy and lamenting himself for being the one to educate me with decades of knowledge in much shorter time. He ridiculed my pronunciation, my handwriting, taunted me for being unable to uphold myself in debate or conversation, for my general lack of insight.

He started training me in controlling and perfecting my heka, which he ordered me to summon on the spot, almost crying out loud in rage when I told him I couldn't. I was nothing but a mule in his eyes, the lowest of servants, and he couldn't understand why exactly _he _was saddled with the unholy duty of moulding me into a Priest. The second I heard him voice that complaint, my blood almost froze; so that was the goal of having me report to the Palace. I figured as much that no one was attacking me for my heka- people were impressed with my spirit ka as soon as they heard about it, praising me for being able to summon it at such a young age.

I had to grit my teeth and work hard- I absorbed everything, reading until the late hours of the night, writing as fast as I've never written before, staining my fingers with ink, ruining reeds with the force I was writing down the hieroglyphs with. I wanted to show my teacher that his farm boy could handle whatever what was thrown at him, and that I could do whatever he demanded of me. The days weren't as hard compared to the physical labour I've done before, working on my father's lands, but long and difficult as I was given tasks and assignments, receiving responsibilities and obligations to fulfil. If I wanted to remain in the Pharaoh's service, I had to answer to all these expectations of people around me, and the expectations I laid upon myself.

I learned the Pharaoh's name when he was thirteen and I was sixteen. My teacher told me his name, and stressed the importance of immediately forgetting it. One was not worthy enough to address the Pharaoh with his given name, ever- with the risk of capital punishment. When I was alone in my small room, I would say his name out loud, tasting it how it would roll off. _Atemu. Pharaoh Atemu._

I had the fortunate privilege to be around the Prince for quite some time, as we studied together. I shared history and mythology classes with him, and we went to temples and shrines together to do our homework. I received the honour of teaching him the basic principles of heka- it made me swell with pride, even though my teacher said he was too busy to teach the young Prince himself, I knew he was assigning me this responsibility due to my training for Priesthood.

As the time went by, a younger girl by the name of Mana joined us. I immediately sensed her great promise, the dormant power of heka, harboured within her. Even as I was still a student myself, I already had an apprentice- it made rumours fly around wildly in the Palace, and I was stern and determined to become the best magus, just as my Magus of Fantasy Illusion, as I had named my spirit ka, who had grown immensely in power with all the summoning and training. I learned how to use heka in battle, developing a strong bond with my magus as we were dependent on each other, especially in battle- he was alive as long as I had any _ba _left. We trained together, the young Prince, Mana and me, even though the former two didn't have any spirit ka, we trained in fighting, strengthening our bodies. Even with all the studying and work together, there was still room for play and relaxation.

The courtyard I had met the Prince for the first time became 'our' courtyard, where one of us could always be found. It wasn't as large as the main courtyard, which spanned miles in surface; it was rather small, with the large fountain and two other, large basins of water, all adorned with those beautiful lotus flowers. The sun would be there only for a few hours a day, shadows offering cool shades from the high temperatures during the afternoon and early evening. We often met there to study together or just hang around; even the future Pharaoh was sometimes bored, cranky or even rebellious when throwing a particularly boring and tedious scroll into the fountain. Which his father wasn't very pleased with- and despite being the Pharaoh's apple of his eye, the Prince wouldn't and couldn't avoid his punishment for destroying a perfectly fine document.

The Palace's library became familiar territory to me as I spend hours and hours studying and researching. It reminded me of how confident my previous teacher was that I once would visit the Palace's library- and now I was anchored in it, sitting behind one of the large tables, with papyri strewn all around me. Servants would bring me food and drink, sometimes gently reminding me either of a meeting I had to attend or to get some rest. I got used to my new life fast, though I never forgot about what I had called my 'previous' life- that one of a farm boy, struggling to make ends meet, day after day. I was dressed in large robes as I grew tall, I was given gold to wear to indicate my status of being a Priest in training, I was talking to the Pharaoh- marvelled that he wanted my advice, my opinion, even though I wasn't a full-fledged Priest yet. I learned so much from the meetings with him and his advisors, learned from my teacher who would never praise me and always pushed me to strive for more. I saw the pride in his eyes as I perfected my heka, my Magus of Fantasy Illusion growing with the strength of my heart, my devotion to the Pharaoh and his family strengthening with every passing day.

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Besides work and play, there was laughter and tears. Laughter when we were forgetting all our duties and plights and ran around the Palace, Mana and the young Prince hiding in pots- easily detectable for me, but for the fun of it I would pretend not being able to find them as they were snickering in their hiding places. Mana was growing up to be a headstrong girl, beautiful in her appearance and potentially very strong in her heka. It annoyed me that she was sometimes quite lax in her studies, trying to practice spells she wasn't ready for or forgetting an important part of it, rendering her magic useless in certain occasions. While she called me boring and sometimes too strict for my own good, there wasn't much I didn't tolerate from her. She'd be a great sorceress once, if only she had the same determination and devotion as my Prince. Ah… that was a slip of the tongue. I often used to think of the young Prince as 'my' Prince, simply because we were friends, and it was obvious that we were gravitating towards each other, as our bond seemed to strengthen as time went by and our duties and obligations started to weigh heavier. I was reminded daily that I was in the presence of the future Pharaoh, the King of the nation, the ruler of our lands, and that I had the good fortune of knowing him personally. He didn't show any signs of heka himself, but he was interested in the mechanics and diversities of it and it was a pleasure to teach him. I had to remain calm and composed as his eyes rested on me, filled with curiosity and interest as I told him about the workings of magic, of the existence of various spell types, and sometimes the room seemed just too warm, and not because of the temperature outside.

Atemu… yes, in my thoughts I called him Atemu for that was his name, grew up to be a headstrong man, stubbornness matching his father, determined and strong, and... astoundingly beautiful. The long dark lashes framing his crimson red eyes who always bore an intense gaze, the shape of his face, his small lips… everything was beautiful about him. The way he moved, the way he talked, the way he laughed... even when he was irritated or annoyed, he was still beautiful. The gold adorning his ears and head always looked magnificent on him, his natural skin colour contrasting with the jewellery majestically. He would throw a fit sometimes how he hated being small- which must've been something of his mother's side, as his father was tall enough. Mana didn't mind much, she was about his height and hated craning her neck to everyone she was talking to. Still, I couldn't be thinking of him as 'my'. He was the Prince, a handsome young man who would be betrothed to a princess or young empress soon, and I couldn't help myself but feel jealous at the one who would be holding his hand in holy matrimony, exchanging vows with him and look into his eyes at night.

To block these thoughts, I completely buried myself in my studies, finishing and surpassing my teacher to his own surprise, far earlier than he expected. I made sure I spend enough time with my apprentice and with my… the young Prince who was being prepared for ascending the throne when the time was there. I was raised to Priesthood, accepting the mystical Sennen Ring as a part of my new position, the symbol of my obligation and duties. The artefact was from my predecessor, who had passed away- I frowned when receiving the Item but quickly covered it up as not to disturb the ceremony; I detected a great evil in this Ring. Both the Pharaoh and the Prince congratulated me with my progress and my success; for once, I wished my father and my mother were there to see me, for the both of them how I had worked hard and done my best. To my sadness, and as far as I recall I felt really lonely that one night, ties with the family were severed when one was accepting into and ascending into Priesthood. I'd never seen my mother again since the day she brought me to the Palace, and I knew I would never see my father or my siblings again. I already realized by then how the tears and pain in my family had stemmed from the desolate future they'd only seen for themselves, of working the flesh off their bones for barely any profit, for being unable to express themselves but with fighting and beatings instead of words, of not having any much looking forward to than the next cycle of sowing, reaping, harvesting, ploughing.

Tears were abundant the day the great Pharaoh died after a short sickness, striking him suddenly and leaving the most skilled healers baffled and powerless. My service to Pharaoh Akunamukanon shifted to service to Pharaoh Atemu, a child of thirteen, more than adult in the eyes of many, having been prepared all his life for this particular moment. The day his father died and he ascended the Throne, he looked… wrong. Yes, he had his usual confident, composed look that made it clear to everyone that he was a ruler, a Pharaoh of a great nation, and he would take on this burden without fail. Not everyone was able to see it, as his confidence and slight arrogant nature were excellent deterrents for his true feelings, that what lied deeply hidden in his heart- the sadness of his father's death, the uncertainty now that he lost his greatest mentor and role model, and he sat on a Throne too large for him, his feet not reaching the ground.

I couldn't see anything different from the small, young child who spoke to me in the courtyard, playing with the fish in the fountain, telling me that his name was reserved only for those in his service, and from the slightly taller, still young boy who was sitting up straight in a cold and hard seat that resembled his Throne, calmly accepting his duties and obligations as he hid sadness and fear behind his exterior of regal demeanour. I was in his service now as his Priest, attending his court, and I only saw him burdened, weighed down more with each passing minute. We had been a unity, the three of us -him, me and Mana, and the bond between us was shifting as he was speaking, pronouncing the holy vows of accepting his position and the promise of ruling the nation. I wasn't Mahaado anymore; I was the wielder of the Sennen Ring, advisor and Priest of his court. I had a duty to uphold and dignity and wisdom to maintain, but my obligations and responsibilities were nothing compared to what was awaiting our young Prince… no, Pharaoh.

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Maybe what I did next, was wrong… or maybe people would say it would be wrong. He was surrounded by people- people who wanted to be in his favour, people who wanted a favour, people who were his enemies, people who were his friends. They were all circling around him, eyeing him as if he was some kind of prey, and he had to face them all, take decisions, disappoint one and grace the other, and he would make more enemies and more friends as he was going along. It was a long day, filled with all kinds of ceremonies and festivities, celebrating the crowning of a 'new' Pharaoh while the previous one was buried, judged by the Gods for his deeds and his sins. He had to be tired, seeing how his posture started to slouch in the hard seat, but before I could say something about it, his vizier, an elderly man that went by the name of Shimon, whispered something to his ear. Probably some kind of excuse, because suddenly he stood up and left his Throne, as usual guards quickly herding around him. I send Shimon a thankful smile, to which he nodded; that man was as loyal as one could possibly be, also deriving from the late Pharaoh's court. I didn't know him very well personally, but I had gathered that he was in excellent standing with the royal family and knew that he would be of great service to our current Pharaoh.

I excused myself from the festivities as well, following the small procession to the Pharaoh's private quarters, waiting patiently until all the guards but the ones in front of the doors had dispersed. He was alone in his room, and I knew he was crying. I never had seen him cry before, but the loss of one's father, especially a good man like Pharaoh Akunamukanon, would be hard on anyone. I brushed past the guards, who didn't bother to acknowledge my presence- after all, they knew me, and I would've frozen them in place if they hadn't allowed me to pass.

The first room I entered was the antechamber, spacious enough to house a variety of furniture for those waiting for permission of the Pharaoh to continue and walk further into his private room. I noticed the bowl with fresh fruit on one of the side tables- it looked like perfection, patiently waiting to be consumed. Scraping my throat as to announce myself, I opened the door which separated the antechamber from his private quarters and walked in.

"Great Pharaoh," I voiced out loud, "with your permission…?" It suddenly dawned me that this was the first time I called him Pharaoh instead of Prince. He made that almost unnoticeable gesture with his head, but that was the permission I needed to make my way over to him, my ankles sinking away in the thick carpet. He brusquely rubbed at his face, pursing his lips in a tight line as he avoided looking into one of the many mirrors.

"My Pharaoh, it is of no shame to cry, for the loss of someone that dear to us all and you in particular is great…"

He showed me a soft smile, for the briefest of moments before he turned his head away again. "The last time I cried was at a shrine to the Gods, when my father asked for their forgiveness," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, that was the last time I cried."

"I understand, my Pharaoh," I said, bowing. I knew there had to be more behind this story, but I left it to him to fill it in whenever he saw fit. After all, it wasn't my duty to question my Pharaoh, let alone pry into his... business.

"Pharaoh Akunamukanon was a good man. He will be welcomed in the Kingdom of our Gods and stay among them…"

"Thank you," he answered me, almost automatically, as if the words didn't register. He was numb of sadness, tired beyond exhaustion, and facing a task that would've been too much to bear for the most of us. I moved my hand to reach past him, taking a piece of cloth from the table he was sitting at, and I dabbed at his cheeks to remove the traces of tears. The kohl around his eyes had ran all over his face, smudging and smearing his smooth, golden skin. He closed his eyes, those large, crimson eyes, brushing the long dark lashes past his cheekbones. He was so vulnerable at that moment, naked in a way, open and pure, and my fingers started to tremble. There was only this tiny piece of cloth between my fingers and his skin, preventing me from really touching him.

"Mahaado," he said, rupturing the silence, "what am I going to do without my father?"

"You will rule the country as he did before you, my Pharaoh." I dabbed some more, despite the kohl being as good as cleaned off his face now.

"I... I simply can not.."

"Yes you can," I said, reluctantly removing the dirty cloth, waiting for him to open his eyes.

"I am not my father," he said a little sullenly, head still tilted.

"Fortunately, you are not. My Pharaoh, you bear the traits and assets of your father.. his great sense of justice, of responsibilities, his care for his nation and his people. Those are the important things, the pillars of your ruling, and you will give your own mark to it, growing as you go along."

"I have had a great example in my life," he suddenly murmured. "I do not know if I can live up to it, simply because I am not my father."

"I am sure you can," I repeated. "My Pharaoh, you are young and strong. You have had one of the best educations and preparations this country, the people around you, has to offer. It is difficult as the grieving and mourning is still so fresh…"

"How can we be celebrating..?" He asked, shaking his head, but finally opening his eyes.

"We celebrate the birth of a new beginning," I said softly. "The end of a previous chapter, the turning of a new page."

"I should have known you would come up with a comparison that involves a book," he said, a smile tugging at his lips, tone of voice a little teasingly. I blushed faintly, knowing that he knew me all too well. Searching for some kind of distraction, I saw the large golden Puzzle lying on the table. The heritance of his father, the ultimate symbol of the Pharaoh's power. Without thinking twice, I took the artefact, looping the cord around my fingers, lifting it up over his head. He leaned a little forward and I hung it around his neck, taken aback by the sheer weight of it. The Puzzle didn't only symbolize the power of its wielder, but also the burden of the man who stood at the head of a glorious nation.

"Remember that you have your Court- your Priests and advisors who will always help you."

"Yes, that is right," he said, heaving a small sigh, turning his head towards me as his hand went to cup the Puzzle. "I have you."

The blush on my cheeks tinted deeper, and I wasn't really sure how he was addressing the situation… but there was one answer I could give him.

"Yes, you have me."

I didn't imagine the bright smile he gave me, a smile that dissolved into an attempt to stifle a yawn. The day and the latest events had certainly been certainly exhausting and he needed his rest. I wasn't about to suggest to the Pharaoh that he should go to bed, though. He was far above me, the living representation of the Gods, and he would know what to do best. I remained standing where I stood, awaiting his command, awaiting his every wish he would utter. He wasn't speaking, but his eyes were set in determination, that fierce look that I had seen often with him, holding the same pride and confidence that I knew from his father, passed onto his son, who was at the brink of ruling this nation, and I knew by then that the country was safe, I was safe, everyone was safe, as the Pharaoh had ascended the Throne, a strong Pharaoh who held values and justice high, and I would be at his side for as long as he needed me.

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I saw him change over the years. The burden of the Sennen Puzzle and the responsibilities of ruling the country weighed heavy on him, but he bore it all- stubbornly, determinedly, taking pride and honour in doing so. He was often the last one to call it a day, studying every piece of information brought to him meticulously, treating his servants well, listening to his advisors intently, and his decision in the end would be a well thought-out one, weighing the pros against the cons. I assisted him to the best of my ability- I wasn't alone, as the other wielders of the remaining Sennen Items forged under the late Pharaoh's reign, joined me in the Court. The beautiful Aishizu, the strong Set, the mysterious Shaadah, the honest Karim, the reclusive Akunadin- each of them carrying the task and obligation tied to their respective Item. I had sealed away the dark and evil… conscience I found when I studied my Sennen Item, the Ring, the day I received it, using my heka to keep it under control.

When he accepted the Throne, things changed between us. From students and friends we suddenly became Pharaoh and Priest, even though it had been inevitable. To me, he remained the same, small Pharaoh child that talked to me in the lotus garden, and I told myself that nothing between us had changed, very much aware of the lie I was telling myself. I didn't want anything to change between us, as comfortable as we had grown in each other's company, as natural as we interacted with each other without being reminded of our positions. One thing did remain the same, much to my pleasure: every night, before retreating to his private quarters, he took a small walk around the courtyard, the small lotus garden, and ended by sitting on the edge of the fountain where we first met. I knew his daily routine, his schedule, and I made sure my evening walks coincided with his, if only to see him outside of the Court, outside of the Pharaoh he was being- I wanted to see him as Atemu, even though I didn't speak his name but in the silent comfort of my own room. Despite the guards surrounding him -they only kept the minimum distance, ready to intervene-, he talked about casual things with me, as if nothing had changes. I could feel it between us, the invisible ties that made us drift towards each other. I couldn't care less for the envious looks I was sometimes given, and I knew about the gossip that went around about how high I stood in his favour. Instead of being annoyed at it, it amused me- all those gossipers would think twice about telling each other how unfair it was if they'd see that during council meetings, I wasn't spared. If anything, my advice and opinion were weighed double; no, there wasn't a single shred of favouritism at the Pharaoh's Court. Only when we walked together, late at night like this, we could leave our positions behind us, and just be who we were.

I would settle for this friendship, would settle for this deep bond we shared. We would finish each other's sentences, we were able to quickly pick up on what the other was about to say, or what the other was feeling by just a simple look, or movement, or the intonation in his voice. Often Mana would accompany us, being her bubbly and joyous self. We both would do anything to make our Pharaoh smile and laugh, and to make the three of us to feel at ease, forgetting the work and the obligations for just that one moment. Our Pharaoh… _my_ Pharaoh. I latched onto everything he said, watched every movement of his eyes, wanting to see something there that I could interpret in a certain way. I had to be careful when my fellow Priests were around me at a meeting or during our council, that it wouldn't be too obvious that I was observing him, let alone that the Pharaoh himself would be annoyed by my gazing stare, but I just couldn't turn away. I had to know, had to see that smile on his lips, if it was meant only for me, and when he turned his head, if he would look at me, if that look on his face was directed at me.

I promised his father, the late Pharaoh Akunamukanon, on his deathbed that I would take care of his son, I would take care of Atemu and protect him, serve him to the best of my abilities.. no more than my abilities. I had to protect him as I promised; he was family to me, more than family, and my promise to his father had turned into a passionate vow as my feelings towards him had changed. I was looking for signs that his feelings had changed too, and I could only hope and pray- and be his servant as I used to be his teacher.

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These last few days the Palace had been up and about in commotion, caused by the appearance of a certain thief calling himself Bakura. The man claimed to be the King of Thieves, and had managed to barge into the Throne Room - the Throne Room! - unleashing his ka: the terrifying Diabound. Until that day, I had seen lots of evil ka spirits, demons strengthened by the hatred, anger or anguish in one's heart, but never anything like this. We Priests always managed to extract it from the person, to seal it onto the stone slab, containing the evil to never walk free and blacken the heart more. This… this monster, this Diabound- was horrifying. In size, in power, in ability; it surpassed us all, and I couldn't unleash my heka fully, I couldn't strengthen my Magus enough without endangering the others around me. I saw Set trying to contain the beast, using his Sennen Rod to seal it, but to no avail. Karim couldn't even weigh the evil in the thief's heart, his Sennen Scales going wild, and I thought Shaadah would keel over on the spot from the shock when trying to use his Sennen Ankh on the man.

It was a dreadful situation, and this Diabound was going to destroy us all, if it weren't for our... my… our Pharaoh stepping up to the plate. We tried to stop him, not wanting him to be in any kind of danger, and silence fell as he moved himself in front of us, the Pharaoh protecting his Priests. Was it because Bakura had defiled the late Pharaoh's tomb, _his father's tomb_, dragging the sarcophagus all the way into the Throne Room? Was it that the thief used the mighty Pharaoh's dia dia'ankh to call forth his spirit ka? Was it his audacity… his sheer _pride _this man took in what he had done? I could barely give it a second thought, as the dia dia'ankh on the Pharaoh's wrist unfolded and he called for one of the Gods. Not even Shimon had expected _that _particular thing to happen, never having witnessed a God answering a call. The Pharaoh called forth his strongest servant, the mighty Obelisk, and we all stared in shock and in awe, as Diabound was thrown back and the thief injured. There wasn't much room for celebration though, as it was more than obvious that both Diabound and Obelisk were matching each other in strength. It had ended with the thief retreating, but not as hasty as I'd like to see- this man knew that he was strong and dangerous.

A young servant approached me in my room, carrying a small golden tray. There were guards outside my door- security had doubled, tripled, after this so-called King of Thieves had uttered threats about reclaiming the Sennen Items, taking them away from us. I was searching through my scrolls, looking for my personal notes. Bakura had mentioned things that were very familiar to me. When I researched the Sennen Ring after I received it, I had discovered certain facts that made me shiver in disbelief and fear. The truth was the most important thing, but it was still a low priority compared to the Pharaoh's safety. I would always protect him, even from the truth, even it would cost me my life. That he had taken his stand in front of us, facing off with the thief single-handedly, was humiliating. We, the Priests, should've been able to deal with that… cretin ourselves.

I barely noticed gritting my teeth, and the servant backed away from me a little. I quickly straightened my face, taking the scroll from the tray and snapped the thin cord around it. It was a personal message from Atemu- no, the Pharaoh… he wished to see me. I could hardly keep my wildly pounding heart in check. I had received similar messages before, and I had to remind myself that I was only summoned for a meeting, to give some extra advice he needed, or an opinion he wanted to hear. It meant, however, that I got to see him in his own room, where the flickering of the candles and oil lamps would cast that magnificent glow on his face, bringing out the intensity of his eyes even more.

Standing up, I followed the servant out of my room, acquiescing to the guards following me. I always wondered how the Pharaoh was dealing with the constant proximity of guards, of servants- they were hard to ignore, and I was glad to arrive at his private quarters soon enough, noticing that there were more than ten guards outside the doors. Set sure had taken quite the drastic measures.

As the doors were opened for me, I realized I was still holding the scroll with the simple message in my hand, and I put it on a small wooden side table. Crossing the antechamber, I reached for the door that separated me from his room. Something… different was in the air. It didn't have anything to do with heka… was it my nervousness? I had been here before. What could be different from all those other times? I took in a deep breath and opened the door, smelling incense, lotus incense. The room was slightly dark, and it took me a few moments to adjust my eyes properly. He was sitting in the corner, a few papyri spread out on the table next to him.

"Great Pharaoh," I said after I walked over to him, kneeling down in the respectful manner as I was taught to. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes, I wished to see you, Mahaado," he said, turning around in the large seat, holding a scroll in his hand, a slight scowl on his face.

"These reported sightings of Bakura are worrying me," he continued, showing me the records of spotted sightings of the thief. In my position as captain of the royal tomb guard, I was responsible by default. Bakura had managed to defile one tomb. He wouldn't be able to break into another one and come out of it alive. I placed my hand on my chest, over my heart, to stress the importance of my vow.

"I will take on my responsibilities and investigate the matter further, Great Pharaoh," I said. "Rest assured that such events will never occur again." The last thing we would ever need were more thieves running rampant and break into the tombs of our beloved ancestors, following the King of Thieves' example. Most of the tombs were protected by a multitude of traps, devised by Shimon himself. Not many of previous tomb robbers had been able to figure them out, paying for their misjudgement with their lives. This man, however… "I will strengthen the guards and inspect the tombs and their traps at once."

"Very well," he said, rolling up the records and putting them aside on the table. "I will leave it to you to take the appropriate precautions. I rather mention this to you in person then in another Council meeting, wherein Set will take the advantage to rub it in how inefficient you are- which you are not, of course. To Set, everyone is inefficient but Set himself."

I lowered my head, hiding my grateful smile. My fellow Priest would strive with me for the Pharaoh's praise, though he treated us all accordingly and equally. I knew that at least Set would take any chance to discredit me- not out of spite, but because he had reached perfection in his own eyes. There was no one who could or would doubt High Priest Set's loyalty, intelligence and his strength in tactics, on the battle fields and in duels. I felt ashamed enough that I failed my Pharaoh; I didn't need Set to point it out again to me, especially not in front of the whole Council.

"I thank you, Great Pharaoh." After the nod of his head, I rose to my feet, convinced that the meeting was over. Short, much too short to my liking, but if this was all I could get, I would have to take it. Just as I was about to bid him a good night and thank him once again for his advice and his words, he suddenly tilted his head and smiled.

"It has been a while since we really talked, Mahaado. How is your family doing?"

He took me by surprise, even though he was right- ever since the appearance of the King of Thieves, he'd been too occupied to take his usual evening walks in the lotus garden. His words struck a bittersweet cord with me. It was tradition that a Priest's ties with his family were completely severed, as to leave his past behind, a symbolic new start. It was no secret that the majority of the Priests had some kind of contact in the large city to keep them informed about their family's well-being, even though it was officially forbidden. I had a similar contact, an honest merchant who knew the right people who knew my family. Because of him, I knew that both my parents had passed away, and that most of my siblings were doing fine- that is, the usual life of a farmer's family.

"They are doing fine, Great Pharaoh," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. It was no secret either that the Pharaoh was aware of all of this. He'd been considering abolishing this particular tradition for a while now.

"That is good to hear," he said and he stood up from his chair, stretching a little. He probably had been studying those records for hours on end.

"Great Pharaoh?"

He only showed me a smile, but it was more than enough. This one was for me, definitely, and I had to keep from gasping.

"Family is extremely important. It has been over two years now…"

"Forgive me," I immediately murmured, lowering my head again. How could I have forgotten- allowing myself to be occupied with smiles and superficial infatuations, when my Pharaoh was still grieving for his father, on the exact day of his death, two years ago?

He didn't answer me; I didn't hear anything but the rustle of clothing, and I didn't dare raising my head again until he gave me permission. I could mentally slap myself, but all my thoughts of self-chastising disappeared when I overheard the sound of wine being poured into a mug.

I slowly raised my head, my eyes searching out the Pharaoh who stood at the dresser, his back turned towards me, and he was pouring the wine- not one, but two goblets. The idea of the Great Pharaoh himself serving me wine was devastating to me, and I quickly moved to take the chore out of his hands, my hand brushing over his. I had never been so close to him as I was now- not even when walking in the courtyard, our small lotus garden, where I held a distance between us-, our arms never touched or even brushed. He mumbled something, and I couldn't make out if it was from the frustration of me taking the wine out of his hands or that something else was bothering him.

"Great Pharaoh, you should sit down and rest," I admonished him gently, holding the two goblets. He looked at me, nodding in agreement and he took a few steps away from me, returning to the large chair he'd been sitting in just a few moments before. I didn't know if my heart would be able to upkeep this high rate it was beating with, and though I mourned the loss of his close proximity, I knew it was for the better and I handed one of the goblets to him. He made a gesture with his hand to the other chair, motioning for me to sit down- I thanked him and sat down myself, my eyes never leaving him.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't the wine. It was watered down, a light, sweet wine that tasted pleasantly on the tongue. It wasn't the lotus incense; I smelled lotus constantly. If it weren't for the garden, there were lotus flowers almost everywhere, and the scent wasn't that distinctive to me anymore. It was… it was me. I simply couldn't help myself. He sat a little slouched in the chair, at ease as I only had the privilege to see him; his knees pulled up, hands resting in his lap, his body inclined to the right. I touched him. My hand found itself touching his lower right arm. I touched the living personification of the Gods, son of Horus, son of Ra… and his skin was like a soft cloud, as my fingers touched the smooth surface. His body was hardened by life, yet remained supple and lean- and glistening with gold, cast by the flickering lights of the oil lamps.

He turned his head towards me again, his eyes half-lidded, the goblet of wine still in his hand. It must've been empty by now, as we'd been talking for several hours. I couldn't even remember the topics of our conversation, as I'd been mesmerized by the movements of his lips, his tongue flicking out occasionally, keeping my eyes on his face, on _his_ eyes. I noticed that I had moved towards him, shifting to the edge of my seat… and I was touching him.

He didn't say anything. Gods, it had been so long since I touched him. When we were still studying and training together, preparing for our future tasks, we touched each other as everyone did; brushing past each other in passing, stepping on each other's toes when being clumsy, hands moving… so long since I've touched him since then, not even a simple brush of his fingers. My hand- it moved upwards as if it had a will of its own, stroking his skin, tracing the goose bumps that had appeared. It wasn't cold in his room, not by a long shot. Was it my breathing that resonated in my ears, or was it his? The gold on his arms was a bother; it interrupted the perfect outlines of his arm, it deprived me of caressing more skin, deprived me of seeing the beautiful glow of his body. I leaned even more forward, on the edge of my seat, and pressed my lips against his upper arm, just above the golden band. I pressed my lips against his skin and tasted him. I couldn't find any words to describe it. It was silent in the room, I couldn't even hear him breathing, and I couldn't hear myself breathing. It was as if my heart had stopped, my eyes had gone blind, my ears had gone deaf… and still I lived, drowning in his taste, his scent leaving its impression on my every sense, taking it in, gulping, swallowing, overwhelming… and wanting more.

He didn't scream for his guards. He didn't tell me to stop. I saw his other hand tremble, as it was still holding the goblet, and the little wine left made a sloshing sound. My mind was screaming at me, my composure, my rationality, it was screaming, ranting, raving, yelling- I was overstepping boundaries, I was damning myself to be stripped of Priesthood and everything I held dear... and he didn't say anything. He was shivering as if cold again, despite the warm cloak around his shoulders, but he didn't move. He tilted his head, the right earring slipping over his shoulder. I was sure he didn't keep those heavy, large things in at night- and wondered why I was even thinking of it. All I wanted was to taste him again and I brought my lips to his arm anew, pressing a little harder. I moved up, along his arm, keeping my kisses light and gentle, but firm- showing him that I was serious, though leaving him enough time between kisses to pull away if he wanted. It was hard to stay focused, to silence the screaming rational part of my mind that was harping over and over again that I should stop doing what I was doing, that I was inappropriately touching my Pharaoh… yes, _my _Pharaoh

I wasn't aware he had tilted his head that far that his lips were close to mine when I reached his shoulder, the rim of his shenti proving to be another obstacle… an obstacle I couldn't even dream of tackling. His lips were parted slightly, maybe in surprise, maybe in excitement, or in anticipation… now I could hear him breathe, slightly faster than normal, and I only had kissed him on the arm. No one dared to touch the son of the Gods. Not even those closest to him touched him, be it for Mana, perhaps- but she stubbornly refused to see him as the Pharaoh, referring to him as "Prince", and still surprised why he couldn't go hide in pots as he used to do. The Gods be damned, myself be damned, but his lips were so kissable, they were all but offered to me, and I raised my head slightly to nip at his lower lip, capturing it between my own. He was so close, not moving, not protesting, and I took in his scent; spicy, cinnamon and copper, gold and lotuses. Nutmeg and blood, the hot sun, clear day sky after a rain storm… it was nothing I could ever have imagined, so much at the same time, almost too much to bear, and I always… finished what I started.

I was doomed already. I had touched him, I had kissed him on the arm, and I was holding his lower lip hostage, tasting and sampling him. He could call for the guards any moment now, to have me taken away and have me whipped until I would bleed to death. My lips finally left his, an ominous feeling washing over me as he hadn't responded. His scent had filled my every sense, his taste was imprinted on my lips and I could still taste him- it would remain with me, no matter what would happen to me. It would be with me forever, until eternity, and now it was time for me to go back to my place, to await his ordeal, his judgment, his condemnation… As I slumped back into the chair, he reached for me, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength.

"Gr-great Pharaoh..?"

His smile was warm, confident and friendly, and he was more at ease as I had ever seen him. He brought up his own hand to touch my cheek, and his fingers felt like fire, sunburn on my skin without being painful- it was a warmth I'd never be able to describe. It was joyous, radiant, brilliant…and I realised I just gasped.

"Take off your headdress," he simply said. His voice wasn't commanding, but not asking either- I would've obeyed anyway, if my whole body wasn't suddenly feeling like it was being weighed down by lead.

"Great Pharaoh…"

"Take it off, please. I have not seen your hair for so long."

I managed to lift my hands up and remove the headdress, the pleated linen cloth held together by the golden frame with the sun disk in the middle. It covered my hair completely and framed my face, as almost every Priest wore something akin of a headdress; Karim was the only one to wear a simple headband. I removed it, dropping it beside me, my fingers slightly trembling as well. My hair was just thick and an ordinary chestnut colour, so much unlike his black and magenta locks, crowned with the golden bangs that swung with every movement. My cheeks were blushing, and not because of his scrutinizing gaze, but because I couldn't remember him seeing me without the headdress, and even though it was only my hair, I felt… exposed. Naked and vulnerable somehow, and I startled slightly when his hand brushed a few strands away from my face, his fingers sliding past my cheeks again.

I wanted to call his name. I wanted to ask me what he wished from me, what he desired from me. I was willing to do anything, everything, just to please him, just to hold him, just to touch him. I would've sold my soul for this evening to never end; I would've frozen time if I had been able to. He was the one to press his lips against mine, tentatively, hesitantly at first, a child's kiss, full on my lips. As if he wanted to thank me, a simple kiss to mix his taste with mine, to remind me of the lotuses again, the same flowers that floated in the fountain where we first met. His hand sank into my hair, palm of his hand brushing past my ear and I shivered, parting my lips as I did so, and permitted myself the audacity to kiss him fully. Not the chaste, virgin brush of soft flesh, but the fierce, determined pressing of slightly chafed lips to full, luscious ones and I kissed him, I kissed him hard enough to bruise those kissable lips and he… moaned.

The weight against my chest was his hand, fisting itself in my robes with such a grip that his knuckles had turned white. His goblet had disappeared, and I vaguely saw the object lying on the floor, its remaining content spilled on the rich carpet. I never saw him dropping it and I couldn't care less at he moment- his hand was in my hair, _his hand was in my hair,_ and his other was tearing at my robes with the intensity of my kiss. I couldn't stop- I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, nothing of that all- just kiss him, taste him, drown in him.

"My Pharaoh," I breathed, saying what I always wanted to say: _My_ Pharaoh. He didn't answer, not that I expected him to. He pressed his lips again on mine, parting them already before kissing me and I knew the sensations had to be mutual- he wanted more too. Did I feel smug when he moved towards me, all but slipping in my lap, his hand still curled against my chest, fingers clutching at the fabric? No, I didn't- I felt grateful. Grateful that I could bring him pleasure, that he enjoyed my kisses, that he wanted more. He tugged at my hair lightly, fingers stroking the strands, raking through the thick tresses, draping it over my shoulder again and again. He was latched onto my lips as a drowning man, and who was I to deny him, after what I had started? How could I deny him, when my body was aching for more, already heating up with every passing second?

We kissed and kissed, gradually increasing in noise- both our breathing became more erratic, as soft moans alternated with rather lustful sighs, and we kissed again and again. My hand was on his thigh, remaining still, to keep him from slipping out of my lap as he nestled against me, and my other hand was on his shoulder, keeping him close to me. Oh so close… I sensed the warmth radiating off of him, becoming more heated, and every time he moved, be it the littlest of movements, he created such a delicious friction that I couldn't keep from moaning into the kisses we shared. It was too late to stop. We went too far to turn back, even if we had torn ourselves apart at that very moment, and he knew it as well as I did. There was some desperation behind his touches, as his hand started yanking at my robes, as he lifted up his hips to turn even more towards me, burying himself against me. What was he looking for? And was I... the right person to give it to him? My fingers had found their way to the clasps of his broad collar and unlocked them; immediately the large, purple cloak slipped from his shoulders, spilling over the armrest of the chair.

He drew up his legs, curling even closer to me, tilting his head a little to demand a kiss from me again, a kiss I was very willing to give to him. I kissed them again and again until I dared to use my tongue, running past his lips first, before slipping in gently, tentatively. His fingers in my robes clutched even harder, with a little extra force they would rip the fabric apart. He certainly never was touched this way before, and I realized how he was trusting me- trusting _me_ to keep him safe, to do to him what I wanted to do to satisfy both our pleasure, to make him feel wanted, needed- not as the Pharaoh for his country, not as the ruler of a nation, but as a person, as Atemu, as the one sitting in my lap, silently asking me for more.

The broad collar fell to the ground, its fall broken by the carpet. My hand roamed his shoulder, fingers tracing the rim of his shenti, unable to get enough of the feel of his smooth skin, sun kissed golden skin, and I moved my hand upwards to his neck, grazing his hairline, brushing past the strands. My other hand was still on his covered thigh, but my fingers were gripping the fabric as well, slowly pulling it up.

"My Pharaoh…" How many times had I broken up a kiss, how many times had I pulled away the littlest of inches, a small distance, just to look at him, just to gaze at his half-lidded eyes, to stare at the long dark lashes fluttering open and close? I had lost count, and I was sure he wasn't keeping count either- I had gently explored his mouth, and he had softly moaned, as sensations were intensifying rapidly. My body was aching, hungry, lustful, and despite all my hours of meditation and contemplation it became more and more difficult to keep myself under control. I wanted to hear him, I wanted him to moan my name, and I wanted him to pant and gasp and most of all… I wanted him under me. If my cheeks weren't already red enough from all the delicious kissing, they certainly were now- such indecent thoughts, such… audacity! If I voiced any of these thoughts out loud, I would be punished, I would be ridiculed, mocked for even daring to think about the son of the Gods this way- and I couldn't care less. Not this very moment.

I almost slid off my seat, tightening my grip on him as I felt him move- and my heart sunk, as he slipped out of my lap, putting his feet back on the ground, standing up. I moaned the loss of my grip on him, even though my hand was still clutching at his shenti- it felt like all the warmth moved way from me, depriving me of its comfort, rendering me cold and shivering. My stomach was turning upside down, I had to swallow and force myself to look up at him… awaiting his condemnation, his judgment… his execution. I went too far, and now I had to pay for my… my thoughts got cut off, as I saw him taking off his Sennen Item, dropping the artefact to the floor. He'd kept it next to his side so it wouldn't poke me in the chest when I kissed him, but the object was just too large. Without a second thought, I removed my Sennen Ring, all but throwing it on the chair. He didn't have to reach for me; I stood up myself to take him into my arms, embracing him. His hand fisted itself in my robes again, wrapping his other arm around my waist- such a delicious, but hesitant touch, as if he needed directions.

"My Pharaoh…" I whispered in his ear, "Allow me…"

The affirmative nod of his head was all I needed, and I started to back him up to the bed- the large bed close to the open fire, casting enough comfortable warmth for the whole room, enough warmth for the both of us. He still didn't protest, landing soft kisses on my neck, his left hand buried in my hair, and he allowed himself to be guided by me, until the back of his knees hit the bed. He immediately sank on the covers- for a brief moment my heart seemed to stop beating, afraid as if I had hurt him, but barely had the time to ask him when he tugged me down.

Pulling up his shenti, revealing more of his thigh, my fingers started to tremble again as I caressed his skin, feeling goose bumps arise wherever I went. His breathing was definitely more erratic now, as he fully realized my intentions, and that he had given permission for it. The moment he'd say no, I would stop, of course… I wouldn't do a thing to hurt him, but I wanted him so bad, wanted to answer his trust, wanted to serve him to the best of my abilities. As I lied him down on the bed, his hand shifted to my back, touch still hesitantly exploring, his other hand idly stroking the strands of my hair, fanning them over my shoulders. Soft sounds escaped him, between moans and gasps, and it was all music to my ears. If only he would call my name… my hands moved to remove the golden bands around his waist, finding and unlocking the clasps, and now there was nothing but layers of linen between us- his shenti and my robes. My fingers trickled over his mid-bare thighs before I raised my hands to start undressing myself. It was awkward, as he didn't help me, just watched me. I felt a little embarrassed, as my body showed every sign of excitement, and I was extremely sure I was the first one, _his first one, _the first nude person he saw. I repaid his trust with trust of my own- to show myself naked, no clothes, nothing to hide behind, and I was all his. I would stop and dress myself when he said so; I would leave him if he wanted me to. My stomach kept clenching and unclenching itself, almost rendering me nauseous, but I suppressed it. Nothing was going to spoil this moment now, and I continued, removing the last line of clothing, pulling the garment over his head.

He was so beautiful. Eyes all but closed, long dark lashes firmly brushing against his reddened cheeks, his lips a little parted. I claimed them, time and time again, bruising them as my passion grew. Every word that we wanted to speak was cut short by our kissing, rendering us silent but gasping and moaning. His slender, long fingers on my skin was a tantalizing touch, while my calloused ones scratched and cut him, breaking the surface of his skin. I was touching perfection and ruining it, bruising his lips as I kissed him. I couldn't get enough of his lips but forced myself to tear away, to give his whole body the attention it deserved, it desired, it craved. Leaning into him, I wedged my knee between his legs and he already arched his back, emitting an audible gasp. His hand tightened in my hair, almost yanking the strands. He had to relax, and I tried to accomplish it by showering his body with light kisses, swirling with my tongue over sensitive flesh, trying to take away his nervousness by comforting him as my fingers stroked him, touching him wherever I could.

There was a little bowl of oil on the small night stand, probably used to rub on dry or chafed skin. It smelled like flowers- lotus oil, of course. I couldn't suppress another smile as I reached for it, dipping my fingers in the substance. This would certainly help, if only for the familiar scent of it. I rubbed it between the palms of my hands and placed them on his body, roaming his chest and abdomen. He let out a surprised, yet pleasured moan, and it didn't take long for him to relax again, the massage soothing and comforting. His fingers released their grip on my hair, and his moans increased as I worked lower, using more of the oil as I went on. This was a privilege, a small miracle in itself... and where my fingers went, my mouth would follow, kissing and stroking him, becoming more confident myself as his little gasps increased. I looked up at him, silently begging him to tell me to continue- but his eyes were closed, though not cramped. His cheeks still wore the red colour and his lips were parted in pleasure, his breathing heavier as I resumed massaging him, reaching between his legs, my fingers slick with the oil.

He cried out when I touched him there, his body responding as in shock, arching himself off the bed. I pressed down on his hips, gently, waiting for him to motion me to stop if he wanted to. I captured his lips again before trailing all over his throat, taking away his attention from the intrusion of his body as I added a second finger, eliciting another breathily gasp from him, his legs a little cramping.

"My Pharaoh," I finally spoke, "are you... all right..?"

I received a low groan in return, a barely understandable syllable, and I took it for a 'yes, continue', my heart pounding against my chest, rejoicing in his response. I shifted, wedging my other knee between his legs, gently nudging his thigh to create a little more room and he obliged. Pushing my fingers further in, I started to move so very carefully, not wanting to hurt him in the least. I fully realized how much I was focusing on him and his pleasure- which was all but natural to me. My own body ached and longed for him, but I would be satisfied very soon, and I could wait. His joy and satisfaction were more important anyway, and I already had been rewarded beyond comprehension and belief.

From the corner of my eyes I noticed another woodblock of the open fire fizzling out, ash flakes whirling momentarily in the air before lying down on the floor. It would be warm enough in the room for hours to come, but our bodies were generating heat enough to keep multiple fires burning. It was a very pleasant heat that seemed to focus at one certain part of my body, discovering to my satisfaction that it had the same effect on my Pharaoh as well. With great control, I added a third finger, keeping an eye on his reactions, and rejoicing once again as he started to push back, his body responding to the intrusion, finding pleasure and no pain. I touched and caressed him wherever I could with my other hand, continuously roaming his body. His hands had dropped from my back and shoulders, fingers gripping at the sheets. I could drown in his every movement, his every moan and gasp, as I drank in the sight of him writhing, pushing back against my fingers to gain more pleasure. The slight moist on his lips was either from the thin sheet of sweat covering his body or from licking with his own tongue in anticipation and simply lustful desire- as I claimed them again, I tasted the salt, the hunger, the need… the bare, raw need, and my calm, my composure, my control was shattered.

"Wrap your legs around me," I whispered, and he complied, lifting up his legs and wrapping them around my waist, arching his back. Altering the angle as he did so, he cried out- the first real cry, and I shuddered, hearing the need and longing behind it, but also the pure pleasure. I didn't care if the Gods would smite me for this, if I was stripped from Priesthood and pride- this was something no one could take away from me. He cried out in pleasure, voicing his feelings, and soon he would breathe my name. I removed my fingers slowly, and he moaned for the loss into our kiss, his breathing more and more quickened, fingers gripping the sheets almost spasmodically. He knew what was coming, and he wanted it, just as I wanted it. Never for one moment had I thought I would command him, say something like this to him- no one would command a son of the Gods, ever, but I was beyond the rationalisation my mind tried to provide for me. In the literal heat of the moment, I just wanted to feel him, his legs around me, and he obeyed me, his Priest, the other way around, as I felt his body arching up to mine.

He didn't say 'please'. For as long as we were making love, from the first second our lips had touched until now, he was rather silent, except for the previous wail as he lifted his hips. He was panting and moaning a whole army's worth, but not once had I heard him calling my name or had he given any orders to me; his body had done the talking, and at this moment, it was screaming. The second wail of the night was torn from his throat as I guided myself into him, gently pushing in, giving him all the time he needed to adjust- it was so difficult, as I was burning, burning with love and desire and lust, and my mind was telling me to take it easy, to hold on to the last scraps of my self-control, but for the love of all the Gods… so difficult. I slid in further, the time I took to prepare him paying off as he arched his back, relaxing far easier than I originally thought, for which I was thankful. He tightened the grip of his legs around my waist, almost forcing me deeper, and I leaned into him some more, my lips searching out his again.

"My Pharaoh…"

He let go of the sheets to cling to me, his fingers digging into my shoulders and back. He latched onto my lips, breathing heavily, begging silently, and delicious moans slipping from him as he pushed back again- he was ready.

Was I ready myself? More than anything. I wanted him so much, I could cry- these feelings engulfing me, enveloping me, the heat, the desire, the pure lust running through my veins. I was past my initial embarrassment, my fear of doing something wrong, of being unable to pleasure him as a Pharaoh was supposed to be pleasured. I couldn't ignore my own needs and wants any longer. I started to move, answering these feelings, shivering as sensations travelled through me, attacking me from every side, fuelling the fire inside me. I had no reign over my actions anymore, loosing the rest of my control as his cries spurred me on, his body moving with me in the rhythm I set. This… this should never have ended. There was nothing more that I wanted, I craved, I desired for, than being joined with him in this way, to continuously feel this utmost satisfaction, these sensations of... reaching paradise. I increased my pace as lust kept growing, shutting everything down until only that remained- pure, simple lust.

I lowered my head, breathing against his throat, laying my ear closer to hear his delightful cries, rendered beyond comprehensible speech. His legs were cramping up around me, his fingers were trying to drill holes through my skin, his nails too short to rake and cut. The lotus oil was intoxicating, but not as much as he was; the sight of him under me, hair damp from sweating and clinging to his face in wild, unruly black and maroon strands, the golden bangs covering his red cheeks, plastered to his skin was engraving itself in my mind- no one, _no one _was going to take this away from me, not ever. His chest heaved from the difficulties he had breathing, his senses out of control before long, only focused on receiving pleasure and reaching that peak, that all-out climax we both wanted to attain.

"Come for me, my Pharaoh," I whispered, my voice slightly hoarse from the panting I did myself. Even though I did not wish to rush him, I could barely keep myself any longer under control. This pace I reached was too difficult to keep up, so many sensations, so much heat, so… everything all-compassing desire and passion. A simple farm boy who became a Priest due to his incredible heka, was pleasuring a God incarnate, the Pharaoh himself, feeding mutual love and desire, increasing the passion between us that it was about to explode. "Atemu… please… _Atemu…_"

My prayers were answered. The satisfaction of reaching my peak was nothing compared to his cry, his wail, as his legs cramped up even more, arching his back and lifting himself all but off of the bed, throwing his head back into the pillows and fingers digging painfully in my shoulders. He cried out my name, loud enough for the both of us to hear, a "Mahaado..!" tumbling from his lips in a languished, smouldering scream, dissolving into a long and deep moan as his body was wrecked by those delicious waves, shuddering and surrendering himself completely to the storm of sensations raging through him. It was more than enough to warrant my own release, mustering up at least some sort of control to not crow in delight, to keep my own vocal attributions low, as I was still hearing the echo of his cry, my name drifting through the air as if it could materialize. My mind refused to acknowledge that I had called his name, his given name twice, and was still calling it, softly, almost inaudible, because it was too beautiful not to be said.

His final moan, his last sigh, was a very heavy one, as if a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His hands slipped from my back, falling almost lifelessly on the crumpled sheets of the bed, fingers not even curling. His breathing was heavy, legs still clenched around my waist, and his eyes were barely focused as he tried to collect his bearings. There wasn't a sliver of fear or unrest in me, much to my own surprise- I felt happy and grateful, knowing that I brought him relief, a release, that I had been able to pleasure him. He had placed his trust in me, and I hadn't damaged it- everything I had done, was aimed at his satisfaction and well-being. I longed for him to call my name, and my wish had been fulfilled. Gazing at him, checking if he was feeling satisfied and content, I slowly retreated, moving away from him to break up our union. He returned the look, a smile tugging at his lips, no more energy left but to give a small whimper as I pulled out as careful as I could. .Without making much of a sound, I reached past him and tugged at the mass of pillows to put a few of them under his head to ensure his comfort, not passing up on the opportunity to rake through his hair that had become a little sweaty, curling slightly from the dampness. It brought another smile to my face- I wouldn't see the Pharaoh much more intimate than this, and knowing that his hair curled when damp was trivial compared to our earlier… endeavour, but still it made me smile.

We didn't speak. He tilted his head a little to the right, eyes closing as he was still trying to regain his breathing, going from short, ragged gasping to slow inhaling and exhaling. I caressed his cheek, brushing a few of the same damp, slightly curling strands out of his face, tucking it behind his ears, noticing that he hadn't taken out his earrings for some reason. My fingers dabbed at the thin film of sweat on his face and his throat, exploring as if for the first time all over again. I had no idea about the time, how long it had taken from the first kiss to our release, but it wasn't important. I studied him, taking in every reaction, drinking in how he laid there, more than simply naked and spend. We both had been children, he was still a child in some ways, we had grown up together… and somehow I'd always known that this would happen. We weren't master and servant, we weren't Priest and Pharaoh, we were… friends and lovers. Even if it was meant to be to happen for only one night, only this night… we still were exactly that, friends and lovers. I placed another kiss on his lips, the lightest of touches, the last kiss of the night.

I wasn't disappointed that he fell asleep immediately. If anything, I was extremely grateful. He needed his rest, and this gave me the opportunity to take care of him. I used lukewarm water and a few towels to clean him up, feeling slightly melancholy as I removed every trace, wiping over his abdomen, dabbing at the spilled liquid. Silence reigned as I dressed him in a short night gown and tucked him in, slipping his exhausted body under the sheets, carefully rearranging them, draping his arms across his chest. My own clean-up could wait- my own wants could wait, as my need had been satisfied. I brushed and combed his hair, took out his earrings and put them on the small night stand, next to the drained small bowl of lotus oil. I watched him sleep, watched his chest rise and fall, completely at ease, and I was thankful that the rest his body was craving for, was given to him, feeling satisfied that I had been the one providing him with this rest. No frown would mar his face, no worry would plague him, and no nightmare would haunt him until the dawn of the morning. Dressing myself a little sloppily, I threw the Ring over my head, almost grunting in annoyance as I felt the weight resting against my chest. The Sennen Puzzle was placed on the Pharaoh's desk, next to his writing utensils- it was right in his line of sight when he'd wake up.

Leaving the room was hard, but for the best. Curling up next to him and holding him while he slept was out of the question, no matter how much my heart wanted it, yearned for it- who knows who were already gossiping that Priest Mahaado spend an awfully long amount of time alone with the Pharaoh in His Holiness' private quarters. The Pharaoh had his own ways of receiving anyone he wanted to see or to speak to, alone or not, but it could become conspicuous if one certain person would be the only one to spend that much time alone with him. It was extremely late at night now, though… as I left the room, clothing better in place, I ordered the guards outside to not have anyone interrupt the Pharaoh's rest, by capital punishment if they dared. If there was some kind of emergency -like Bakura barging into the Palace again, which reminded me sourly and brusquely of the ongoing situation-, I was to be alerted first. Their affirmative salute went past me, as tiredness suddenly crept up on me. I still looked a little dishevelled and now I wanted to return to my room and hide under my bed- I wasn't sure if I was going to cry from happiness what I had just shared with _my _Pharaoh, or from the realization that we were both alone in our beds, separated by a world of difficulties and differences.

I only raised my head because I sensed someone was watching me, and I already knew who it was even before my eyes locked on him.

"Set," I acknowledged his presence, "you are still up awfully late."

He snorted, probably very much inclined to say that the same went for me, as his eyes raked over me, and I was extremely glad I had forced myself to put my headpiece back on, otherwise it would've been a very… strange predicament if my fellow Priest had seen me even more dishevelled. He tucked the Sennen Rod away under his elbow, small disdain visible by the way he pursed his lips.

"There has been another report of someone breaking and entering the royal tombs. Your guards have been killed. It is the third time in a week now, Mahaado."

"I will attend to it at once," I said, genuine sorrow for the loss of my men rising up bile in my throat. That vile King of Thieves! He already had made his point clear, what was he thinking by breaking into other tombs, or were this simply his followers or copycats?

Set threw a glance at the closed doors behind me, then shifted his gaze back to me and then to the doors again. He didn't mention a thing, but out of everyone he was the first to draw a conclusion, and most of the times a correct one at that.

"Come, let us discuss this in a more appropriate environment," I said, trying to coax him into moving away. I wasn't really looking forward to enter another discussion with Set, however. As much as I longed for a bath to clean up myself, it had to wait after receiving this news, which was startling in itself.

"The Pharaoh should be informed of this," he answered stiffly, and for a moment I feared he would take a step into the direction of the doors and throw them open. I had instructed the guards to allow no one to pass, but an irate High Priest Set would pass everyone and anything- I had not doubt that they didn't dare to speak up to him.

"He will be," I answered, a little too quickly. "First thing after the sunrise, my friend. Please allow him to rest. He was very tired when I spoke to him, and he already brought this issue to my attention."

Set snorted again; he was one of the very few to openly doubt the equal treatment of the Pharaoh of all his Priests- he didn't keep it a secret that he thought I was being favoured. I shook my head, not up to a cat-and-mouse game, and I was the first one to take a step away from the closed doors behind me, the room where I spend a large part of the night, the person I loved… yes, loved more than anything in this world. He had called my name, and I could still hear it ring in my ears, and no matter how much Set was talking to me, I was listening to the Pharaoh's… to Atemu's voice, and how he had pronounced my name in that moment full of passion.

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_What does a young child know?_

Nothing. It learns as it grows up, by experiencing and living life itself. It'll turn into a man or a woman when loving, laughing, losing, lamenting, throughout the years. The basics are there, as a young child- as I was loyal to my father, despite his hard hands, how I discovered my devotion to studying and learning… there are certain instincts, certain basic characteristics that you carry around with you, even when life takes a different course. I hadn't envisioned becoming a priest, not even after releasing my heka. I was grateful for the chances I'd been given- if life hadn't taken this course, I still would be working at the lands, toiling and slaving over crops. I always thought that I became an adult the day I met the previous Pharaoh, who spoke to me in the lotus garden when his son was about to fall into the fountain. Since then I've realised that, despite being an adult, I wasn't mature until I made love to him- Atemu. That moment, that moment when he cried out my name, loaded with need and desire, pain and despair behind his gasps, the intensity he dug his fingers into my back with- it was all and everything, all I wanted and everything I needed, that was the moment I matured.

As a young child, I knew next to nothing. I had some traits within me, my character that was building up as the years went by and I started to learn, not only from books, but also from life itself. Now I knew that my love and devotion, already present in my heart but strengthened by the experience, was forever. He was the one having faith in me, exposing his trust in me, giving himself to me. I would have faith in him for the rest of my life, placing all my love and trust in him in my hands, my work, and everything that I would do, until the moment I'd die and beyond.

As I hurried along to keep up with Set, disappearing into the night, talking about his strategies and plans to defeat the thief, I looked to my left, noticing that we were passing the small courtyard with the fountain. If there was a frown in my face, it was wiped away immediately, as always when I saw the garden. It was _our_ little garden, the place where we gathered, the place where we met and where we bade each other good night. I couldn't make out the fountain as it was dark, but I trusted the lotus flower to float along the water, giving off there scents to the chilly night sky.

I would serve my Pharaoh beyond the grave. I would serve him beyond this world, beyond time, beyond my abilities. He deserved nothing less, never to be betrayed, never to be disappointed. I clutched at the Rings, my fingers closing around the golden weight. I placed all my faith in him, my undying faith. If my spirit ka was needed in battle against the thief, my heart and my heka would be strengthened by my undying devotion to my Pharaoh. No matter how much hatred and evil the thief fed his monstrous Diabound, my Magus of Fantasy Illusion would shine with the light of hope and faith.

Pharaoh. _Atemu. _My soul will be your eternal servant.

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End of "God's Lotus Garden of Trust"


End file.
